Fragile Boundaries
by Resoan
Summary: Cirrenes Cousland, now the Commander of Ferelden's Grey Wardens, struggles with her choices and desires as she seeks to destroy the remnants of the Architect and the Mother. Old allies also return to aid in her quest. Set after Awakening. Pairings inside.
1. Chapter 1

Before we begin yet another epic tale, let me inform you of a few certain pieces of information. First, this is set after the Awakening sequel, and will contain heavy spoilers of both Origins and Awakening. I leave you to your own discretion on that aspect. The main character is a female Human Noble, and her name Cirrenes is pronounced one of two ways (SEAR-en-es) or (sear-EN-es). Varel is alive for this fic despite the happenings at the end of Awakening; yes, I am aware, do not be alarmed. The endings related to the story are as follows: Cirrenes conscripted Loghain at the Landsmeet, and he died destroying the archdemon. Morrigan has no Old-God child as such. An AU-ish occurrence, however, is that Cirrenes did marry Alistair at the end and Alistair is King (Cirrenes would be Queen, but Grey Wardens are not permitted to hold titles). Yes, I am aware this is not possible in the game, but it fits the story best. Apologies to the nit-pickers out there. As for the ending in Awakening, Cirrenes chose to save Vigil's Keep instead of Amaranthine.

I do not own Dragon Age Origins or Awakening, despite how desperately I plea.

Lilliwyn is my trusted beta reader, and without her support I doubt I would have posted anything concerning Dragon Age on this site. I highly recommend her stories!

As always, reviews and messages are highly encouraged and appreciated! I hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

The throne room of Vigil's Keep was quiet, even the usually drunk Oghren snoring softly in front of the Cask where he had fallen in another predictable, drunken stupor. The Commander eyed him carefully before her gaze swept around the room; Velanna perched carefully against the pedestal to her left, the rather misanthropic elf scribbling away inside the journal she had been given earlier that very day. The Commander could not see Sigrun's tattooed features which were currently hidden behind one of the books she had picked up from one of the bookcases behind her, the soft fluttering of pages turning only reaching the Commander's ears every once in a while. The man now known as Justice remained standing, his vigilant stance hardly ever wavering considering he himself was not mortal and the body he inhabited no longer needed rest; the Commander trusted Justice to be certain, but sometimes his presence was unsettling at the very least. To the spirit's left sat Anders, the mage's chin propped against his chest comfortably. His back was settled in what appeared to be an uncomfortable position, his even breathing betraying his slumber. His quiet and ever-present kitty, Ser Pounce-A-Lot, looked to be rather content as he remained curled up in Anders' lap and dozed off as well. A hint of a smile tugged at the Commander's lips at the rather endearing sight, her eyes finally landing on the final member of the party. Nathaniel looked positively exhausted, the heir to the Howe animosity and muddied name leaning haphazardly against the wall where his mother's painting hung. Nathaniel's desire to sleep was slowly overtaking his silent vigil to remain awake, the Commander holding back another grin when his head fell forward towards his chest before he caught himself and tried to blink the sleep away from his eyes.

It was quite the motley group she had assembled, but she had done the same the last time she had required help from others who seemed willing. Given, there wasn't quite a difference among the races in this group than there had been in the previous, though she figured she wouldn't always find a qunari warrior waiting to be rescued from _merciful_ citizens like those at the Chantry in Lothering. Overcome by a wave of nostalgia, the Commander's daydream was abruptly halted when the Seneschal of Vigil's Keep began to speak.

"Commander," Varel, the Seneschal of the Keep, commanded her attention. "Now that we've repaired the Keep to a more livable condition, we should consider how best to go about things now," Varel finished, the Commander nodding her assent and indicating that Varel should continue. "News has been sent to Denerim of the darkspawn invasion of Amaranthine and the Keep, though we've yet to receive word back from the capital," Varel continued, the Commander appearing disinterested but soaking in every word Varel spoke. "Also, a rather strange missive arrived for Your Ladyship earlier this eve," Varel seemed hesitant to continue, the Commander's piercing gaze now alert and focused solely on Varel. "The private who normally deals with letters addressed to you said it was brought by a rather shady character, and she expressed her concern to me before the Vigil was attacked," Varel paused, the Commander giving him a look he knew all too well: a look which clearly stated she wanted to see this missive and hear no more about that matter until she read it.

Varel handed the Commander the rather plain piece of parchment with a sigh, a slight grin altering the Commander's features before she broke the unknown seal and set to reading the letter.

**My dear Grey Warden, I have heard some unsettling news from some of the Crows that a rather craven and ambitious noble has hired some of the assassins to make an attempt on your life. Not that I am unaware of your battle capabilities, but I thought perhaps you would appreciate the sentiment regardless, no? As you are no doubt aware, I have returned to Antiva, and it seems the Crows have forgotten my treachery if only for the time being. In fact, serving with you during the Blight seems to have the Crows scrambling; they are trying to recruit me yet again, though I suppose I will now be worth more than a mere three sovereigns, eh? I have turned them down thus far, and I don't imagine that will change in the future, though I cannot predict it as I have pointed out to you on many occasions. Who knows, perhaps we will meet again without the pretense of an assassination attempt? I think it would be refreshing, especially after all the bloodletting during our travels. Or, as it happens, I may be traveling to Amaranthine and drop in on you if given enough time. Sounds good, no? I do hope to see you soon, my lovely Grey Warden.**

The letter was simply signed "Zevran," a fully formed smile now present on the Commander's lips. "Commander?" Varel's voice brought her back to reality, the Seneschal's features grim.

"It is nothing to worry over, Varel," the Commander assured him, deft fingers curling the parchment before placing it into a nearly-empty pack. "For now, however, I will rest. I will be of no use to anyone weary," the Commander commented, Varel uttering a 'My Lady' and inclining his head respectfully before she left the throne room for the solace of her own bedchambers. Considering all the damage the darkspawn had wreaked upon the Vigil during the siege, the Commander's room was sparse and not nearly as decorated as it once had been. A plain bed lay in the far corner, an armor stand situated to the right of the door. Off came the Commander's helm first, tangles of scarlet hair tumbling to her shoulders. She nearly grimaced when she realized just how much blood and gore had splattered onto her skin, fingertips wiping some of the muck away from her cheek. The next order of business involved removing boots that felt tight and left blisters on her feet after a long day of fighting monsters and traveling to so many locations. Once free of them, the Commander released an audible sigh, her toes wiggling just enough to remind her that they weren't sticking together or going to become numb. A similar process occurred for her fingers when her gloves released them, the Commander wishing with a sigh that she could at least wash all the grime off of her body. While chambers for bathing were present in the Keep, the Commander knew they would be nearly worthless now; no doubt they would be filled with darkspawn blood or something equally as disgusting which would render a wash moot.

As inviting and enticing as the bed was to her tired bones, the Commander instead looked to the desk that was covered with letters and hastily-written notes other soldiers or citizens had insisted she read. She assumed most were expressing the desire for compensation in regards to some sort of property damage, especially with those who lived in the countryside Lord Eddelbrek was so keen on defending. Honestly, sometimes she wondered if the people _knew_ the darkspawn were planning an attack. It was a terrifying thought, but a nonsensical one as well. The darkspawn were one of the few things everyone in Thedas could agree upon: they must be destroyed. Lighting another candle for further reading, the Commander slipped into some more comfortable clothing before taking a seat at the desk and leafing through the letters. Thoughts of Denerim and Alistair entered her mind the moment she saw a seal on one of the letters, the design intricate and reminding her very much of what she left behind when choosing to come to Vigil's Keep in the first place. The dull ache in her chest subsiding, the Commander instead focused on the task at hand.

Some time later, the Commander stifled another yawn as she placed another read letter into a gradually growing stack, a chill running down her spine as a draft made itself known. The candle had already burned to half its original size, the Commander honestly not surprised at how long she had remained at the desk whilst reading complaint after complaint about matters that she couldn't bring herself to care about, let alone take an interest in at all. Raking a hand through her sweaty and matted hair, the Commander finally placed what would be her final letter for that evening onto the stack of read papers, the joints in her shoulders popping unpleasantly when she stood and began to stretch.

The silence resonating in the room reminded Lady Cirrenes Cousland of how truly alone she felt; she hadn't known most of her party for very long, and while she respected and trusted them to an extent, it just wasn't the same camaraderie she felt while traveling with the group she had christened as the 'original.' The letter from Zevran had been a nice reprieve from all the darkspawn-slaying, however, and Cirrenes could hope for at least a visit in the near future. Here, in the comfort and quiet of her own personal space, the Commander of the Grey Wardens, the Hero of Ferelden, and the unofficial Queen at that, could take time to relax and retake her identity, something she hadn't been entitled to for too long now. She had been thrust rather abruptly into the thick of the Blight, had overcome the Joining, the treaties, Teyrn Loghain, Arl Howe's treachery, her family's deaths...and yet, so much remained to do. She hadn't had the opportunity to properly grieve for her parents, and now it felt too late to do so even were she to push herself to tears. There was no need to worry her party or other Grey Wardens, and falling apart wouldn't reflect well on her reputation regardless. The responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders, and sometimes it threatened to tumble down upon her and crush her without remorse.

Deciding to end her thoughts with that lovely visual, Cirrenes pulled the blankets back before slipping onto the mattress, her head finding the pillow before she found blissful oblivion. As with most Grey Wardens, Cirrenes dreamed of the darkspawn, the strange, pseudo-intelligent talking beasts plaguing her thoughts the most before thoughts of monsters left for something more pleasant. She recognized her old campsite, all of her companions in their rightful places by the fire. "Something stirs still," a familiar voice spoke at her side, a sharp intake of breath accenting her surprise.

"Duncan...is that you?" Cirrenes could barely speak, the other amorphous figures paying her no heed.

"Not exactly, no. I haven't the time to explain everything right now, but you must be aware that killing the Mother and Father has caused something of a chain reaction with the rest of the horde," Duncan began to elaborate, Cirrenes hanging on to every word the seasoned man gave. "The other mothers have, for some reason, begun breeding more quickly than we could have ever anticipated. It will not be long before the Deep Roads are completely overrun, and the dwarves require aid to keep what few thaigs they still possess under their control," Duncan then paused, his stance turning stiffer the longer Cirrenes watched him. "I fear I must go now. It will not be long before they are upon me. Warn the other Grey Wardens, and not only those remaining in Ferelden," Duncan warned grimly, Cirrenes nodding once in understanding, her dark eyes hardening as Duncan's ethereal form fizzled away into nothingness.

The Commander woke with a start, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of her face before she wiped them away with a swipe of her hand. Why all the darkspawn business? Why now? Why couldn't the Blight have ended all the tragedies, if only for a few years so the Grey Wardens could regain their bearings? Pushing these unhelpful thoughts from her mind, Cirrenes wasted little time in replacing her comfortable clothing with her armor, two swords strapped to her back evenly. The sun was no doubt high in the sky; her internal clock had adapted sufficiently over her travels during the Blight, especially while she and her party had been stuck in the Deep Roads. She would need to speak with her comrades before causing a panic concerning her dreams which may be construed as indigestion rather than an ominous portent of things to come. "My lady," Varel greeted her as she entered the throne room, her bleak expression obviously not lost on those who looked in her direction. "You have a visitor, Commander," Varel announced, the door to the room opening and revealing the one whose letter Cirrenes had just read the night before.

"Had I known of the state of the Keep, I would have waited until it got back onto its feet for a grander welcome," Zevran gave Cirrenes a patented flirty smile, a similar expression weaving its way onto the Commander's face before she enveloped the elf in an embrace.

"Well, looky here. If it ain't the painted elf himself. What've you been up to?" Oghren interrupted, Zevran lifting an eyebrow at the presence of the dwarf.

"I would ask the same of you, my fine dwarven friend, but it seems I already know the answer," Zevran easily evaded the question, Oghren belching once before laughing a hearty guffaw.

"Ah, it seems we've been replaced," Zevran noted, his gaze sweeping the room in one turn of the head. "I am hurt, my Dear Commander," Zevran then placed a hand over his heart, Oghren rolling his eyes and stifling the urge to kick the elf in the shins.

"I was getting rather lonely, Zevran. You can't expect me to be satisfied with merely Oghren's company, can you?" Cirrenes then asked with a sly grin, Zevran laughing while Oghren stared, slack-jawed.

"Careful you shut your mouth, Oghren. It might kill the flies it would attract," Sigrun appeared at the other dwarf's side, Cirrenes' laughter subsiding into a knowing smirk.

"I see you finally found someone to keep him in line, eh?" Zevran noted deftly, Cirrenes lifting a casual eyebrow at the statement.

"If by kept in line you mean muttering some nonsense about wanting a pony and then passing out, then yes, very well. If not, then I'm not sure how to answer," Cirrenes and Zevran exchanged knowing looks, the elf's arm slyly rounding Cirrenes' shoulder. The Commander seemed not to care about the more intimate touch, though lifted an eyebrow in the elf's direction who merely looked past her towards the two dwarves.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not torn between my ickle pike-twirler and sparkle fingers," Oghren groused, Cirrenes giving him a strange look. She understood well enough what Oghren was implying, but couldn't understand why he would make such an accusation. It was difficult to not be...attracted to Anders, given how remarkably alike he and Alistair were. Well, as similar as two men can be when one is a mage and the other a veritable templar.

"What the hell are you on about now? Are you ever not drunk?" Sigrun rolled her eyes, Zevran laughing yet again.

"You are well-versed in how to pick an interesting group, my Dear Warden," Zevran commented lightly, Cirrenes looking from Oghren to Zevran with a slight smile.

"That I am," Cirrenes inclined her head once and offered Zevran a sheepish smile, the elf laughing slightly before releasing his hold on her. "Though I find myself surprised you are here so quickly; I read your letter but last evening," Cirrenes confessed, Zevran merely waving off her comment with a shake of his head.

"I did send the letter from Antiva, and traveling in Ferelden is not swift for anyone, let alone a messenger carrying a letter. So, I am not surprised I nearly beat my own letter here," Zevran finished with an overly-dramatic flourish of his arms, Oghren loudly laughing until Sigrun elbowed him in the ribs.

"I hate to cut our greetings short, Zevran, but I must speak with my companions concerning Grey Warden matters; surely you understand?" Cirrenes murmured with a rueful smile, her dreams, or nightmares really, unable to be driven away by the presence of an old friend.

"Of course. Don't mind me, I can keep myself occupied," Zevran added with a wink, Cirrenes rolling her eyes at his blatant boast.

"Try not to break too many hearts before it's over," Cirrenes berated him jokingly, Zevran clicking his tongue at her reproval before stalking away towards the courtyard of the Keep. "Oghren, Sigrun would you both mind gathering the rest of the group? There's something we need to discuss," Cirrenes looked to the two shorter members of the Wardens, both looking at each other before looking at the Commander once again.

"Don't tell me you wanna recruit that damned elf. I can picture it now, he'll turn all the normals into prancing fairies in no time. And with dress-wearing questionables, who knows what might happen," Oghren grumbled, Cirrenes withholding her grin despite the probably accurate statement.

"No no. Though we do need to bolster our numbers, Zevran is not on the agenda," Cirrenes assured Oghren. _Not today_, _anyway_, she added internally, Sigrun finally answering for the both of them.

"Sure. Let's just hope Oghren's competent enough to understand what you're saying," the female dwarf noted sardonically, Cirrenes nodding her approval before disappearing into a small hall opposite of her bedchambers. A long, wooden table marred with scratches and embers filled the room, just enough chairs surrounding the surface for all of her party to sit comfortably and not be invading privacy.

"Did he drink some bad ale or something? He's even more grumpy than usual," Anders grumbled as he stalked into the room, Sigrun at his heels and sighing before shaking her head. Cirrenes had also noticed the strange behavior Oghren exhibited, though assumed it was from either more nightmares or just as Anders pointed out: bad ale.

"Damn dress-wearing girly-men mages," Oghren muttered, a gnarled hand gripping a bottle rather close to his chest before he sat down, Justice, Nathaniel, and Velanna finally entering before shutting the door behind them.

"Something on your mind, Commander?" Sigrun broke the silence, all eyes suddenly turning to Cirrenes.

"Not to alarm any of you, but the dream I had last night was...strange," Cirrenes began, Oghren ready to point out that every Grey Warden dream was strange. "Well, stranger than normal at any rate. It may not mean anything, but I think treating it as important rather than allowing it to be forgotten is in Ferelden's best interest," Cirrenes paused, Nathaniel's grim features turning graver the more she spoke. "In my dream, I saw no darkspawn, no archdemon. I was, however, in a believable illusion of the campsite I used during the Blight, my companions also there if only in form. But, before I could try to interact with them, someone spoke to me. The previous commander of Ferelden's Grey Wardens was at my side, no more than a spirit but not entirely...it is difficult to explain," Cirrenes rubbed at her temples, Velanna choosing that moment to speak.

"Only mages may be aware in the Fade, Commander. How is it you were aware of all this in a dream?" she asked in her typical, condescending tone, Justice quickly intercepting the question.

"You'll recall, Velanna, when the Wardens were pulled into the Fade in the Blackmarsh, they were aware, though the circumstances are...dissimilar," Justice seemed content to remain in the hole he had dug himself into, Cirrenes finally answering Velanna.

"I cannot say, Velanna. I remembered this dream, and perhaps I only made sense of it after awakening? Regardless, he warned me of the darkspawn; I would assume he is somehow trapped in the Fade, unable to make it to heaven through some sort of interference by the darkspawn," Cirrenes finally finished, Velanna and Anders giving her similar looks.

"How would they get into the Fade? Weren't they cast out of the Fade by the Maker himself?" Anders asked, an apprehensive chuckle escaping his lips.

"This old Commander," Oghren began, settling into his chair, his eyes trained on the Commander. "He's the one who recruited you and took you to Ostagar, right?" Oghren finished, Cirrenes slowly nodding her answer.

"Duncan died on the battlefield at Ostagar, at King Cailan's side," Cirrenes supplied quietly, the Commander finally taking a deep breath and continuing. "Duncan warned me that we need to alert more Wardens, since the ones in Ferelden are so few," Cirrenes continued, Nathaniel leaning forward onto the table.

"You intend to contact Weisshaupt?" he stated more than asked, Cirrenes giving him a singular nod before sitting straighter in her chair.

"I also think we should begin actively looking for recruits. I thought we could split up into twos and threes and travel to cover more ground and with any luck find more hopefuls," Cirrenes continued, her fingertips tapping along the wooden surface. "We could send messages along to the major cities and have them post notices for all those who are interested to make things a bit easier," Cirrenes continued, her dark eyes finally glossing over her silent companions.

"I would be willing to seek out my clan and others nearby for any who wish to join," Velanna volunteered, her voice betraying her reluctance.

"I appreciate it, Velanna. Does anyone else have any suggestions?" Anders immediately shaking his head.

"Don't look at me! It's not like I traveled with a bunch of maleficars and apostates you know," the blond mage chuckled sheepishly, Velanna and Nathaniel both rolling their eyes.

"You could talk to the King in Orzammar; I bet there'd be tons of idiots ready to join; they'd probably even host a Proving for the legendary Grey Wardens," Oghren added, Sigrun looking thoughtful before adding her thoughts.

"You could always look in Dust Town too, since the casteless aren't allowed to fight in the Provings; some are more than just thieves who like what they're doing, you know," Sigrun commented further, the dwarf sitting back in her chair thoughtfully before a more evil grin took over her features. "What about that elf that was here earlier?" she then asked, Cirrenes' eyes widening.

"Zevran?" the Commander repeated in a baffled tone, the thought never finding a serious foothold to manifest fully. "I don't think he's the type, to be perfectly honest. He's a great fighter, to be sure, but still...," the Commander's voice trailed off, her eyes squeezing closed tightly before reopening and looking at the rest of the group.

"I suppose I should begin writing then, shouldn't I?" Cirrenes attempted at some levity, her lips turning in a weary smile before she stood and dismissed the group.

"Commander," Nathaniel murmured, his dark eyes finding hers. "Why not send word to the King? Surely he could be of help, especially so close to the Commander of the Grey," Nathaniel pointed out, Cirrenes withholding the sigh that threatened to escape her lips. Nathaniel had a point, but her relations with Alistair had been strained to the point of breaking ever since her decisions at the Landsmeet.

"I had already thought to ask him, but thank you for reminding me," Cirrenes offered him a half smile, Nathaniel lifting an eyebrow at her strange demeanor but saying nothing.

Taking a few steps closer to the door, Nathaniel turned his head; "Was it strange, seeing that man and speaking to him as though he were still alive?" he then asked in a rather subdued tone.

Unbalanced by the question for a moment, Cirrenes avoided eye contact before meeting his eyes and nodding solidly. "Seeing him remaining in the Fade gives me a false hope that he can be saved, but I know that is not so. Still, acknowledging that fact has yet to slay my hope regardless. It makes me feel like an ignorant child yet again," Cirrenes shook her head with a bitter chuckle.

* * *

"So, the Grey Warden has been having worse nightmares, is it?" Zevran pondered on what Oghren had revealed, both of them sporting a mug of ale and sitting at a table inside the eating facilities of Vigil's Keep. "It seems to me that our lovely leader always bears the burden of such leadership alone, even when not entirely necessary," Zevran noted astutely, the elf downing the ale in a single motion.

"Heh, she's always been like that if you'll remember," Oghren remarked languidly, Zevran laughing heartily at the comment.

"Indeed she has. Though, I must say I am surprised that you remember, Oghren," Zevran replied with a sarcastic smile, Oghren making an undignified noise in the back of his throat.

"I wasn't always drunk, elf. Maybe you were too busy ogling everyone at camp to notice," Oghren shot back rather wickedly, a delighted cackle escaping the dwarf's mouth a few moments afterward.

"So this drinking habit isn't something he's just picked up I see," Anders noticed with a grin as he strode over to the table, Oghren and Zevran both lifting their gazes to better view the mage.

"Hardly," Zevran rolled his eyes, Oghren muttering a curse under his breath.

"Sodding nughumpers. Are you here for an intervention, or to drink your sodding ale?" Oghren hid a few more choice words behind his mug, the dwarf subsequently gulping down the remains of his alcohol.

"Somebody's got his knickers all in a twist," Anders replied with a grin, the mage taking a seat much to Oghren's chagrin. "I don't believe we've been introduced," Anders then turned to Zevran, the mage shaking the look Oghren cast in his direction to better look at Zevran.

"A sodding assassin and a dress-wearing mage," Oghren continued to gripe, Zevran pointedly ignoring his dwarven companion to better assess Anders.

"If you want to go home for a while, I don't think the Commander would mind, you know," Sigrun interrupted, Oghren scowling at her before moving from the table to refill his mug. "I guess that's probably why he's grumpy...," Sigrun's voice trailed off, both Zevran and Anders grimacing before Oghren returned.

"Thank you for that lovely visual," Zevran lifted his glass to Sigrun, Anders visibly cringing. "And to whom should I address my thank you?" Zevran then added as an afterthought, the assassin deciding he should better know his Grey Warden's new comrades.

"Sigrun," she answered simply, a few laughs escaping her lips moments later. "And sorry about that. Oghren's been off today. Maybe Anders did something to his ale," Sigrun stated flatly, the mage in question gaping at Sigrun before retorting.

"And just why would I want to go anywhere _near_ what that ale factory drinks?" Anders exclaimed rather indignantly, Sigrun lifting an eyebrow at Zevran before rolling her eyes.

The conversation quickly degraded into silence, Oghren apparently choosing not to join the trio after refilling his tankard with ale. "So, you traveled with the Commander during the Blight," Anders stated, Zevran waiting for the mage to get to his question. "Is she much different now than she was back then?" Anders finally asked, Sigrun sitting closer to the table in rapt attention.

"I have been here but a few hours, so I could not give a completely accurate assessment of your fine Commander," Zevran answered a bit wistfully. "Perhaps Oghren would be the better comrade to ask. He has been here longer than I, to be certain," Zevran paused, Anders and Sigrun disappointed by the lack of information.

"So, the Commander is married to the King, right?" Sigrun finally spoke, Zevran's lips twitching but ultimately staving off the smile that nearly appeared.

"I'm afraid it is so," Zevran concurred, the elf visibly unhappy about the occurrence. "Though, I'd wager they are not on good terms," Zevran then added, his audience of two both giving him imploring looks. "You see, when they challenged Loghain at the Landsmeet, Alistair wanted to kill the man for what he had done to the Wardens. Understandably, of course. The Commander, however, listened to an Orlesian Warden and decided to give Loghain another chance to redeem his once-good name. How she convinced Alistair to go through with the marriage while he was pouting I will never fully understand," Zevran muttered the last sentence under his breath. "He tried to usurp the crown at the Landsmeet I hear, tried to kill Loghain since he was to be king. Cirrenes would have none of it. No doubt the nobles viewed Alistair's try as a power struggle, and I would stake my life that they trust Cirrenes more than the bastard prince now sitting on the throne," Zevran finally finished his tale, Sigrun frowning and Anders uncertain of just how he felt.

"It wasn't a marriage of convenience, though? They were lovers before that fiasco, or so I've heard from Oghren," Sigrun was understandably skeptical of any information Oghren provided, but it proved to be true in this one instance.

"'Tis true, though I did try my hand at wooing your lovely Commander," Zevran added with a debonair smile. "I suppose you can surmise just how successful I was," he then sighed, eventually getting to his feet once he drained his tankard clean. "If you will excuse me," Zevran then took his leave, Sigrun and Anders exchanging a look.

"You think he'll try to go after the Commander again?" Sigrun asked with a chuckle, Anders' eyes widening.

"If he does, I doubt he'd have any luck. She's married now, isn't she? She wasn't tied down during the Blight, and he had plenty of opportunity then," Anders pointed out, the realization alone forcing a sigh from his lips.

"True, but don't you remember what Zevran said? They haven't been on good terms for a while, and with her being here and the king in Denerim...," Sigrun's voice trailed off implicatively, Anders lifting an eyebrow at the dwarf.

"Why, Sigrun, are you condoning that the Commander partake in adultery?" Anders asked mischievously, Sigrun merely laughing at his question.

"Of course not. I'm just saying, there's the possibility," Sigrun stated before getting to her feet, the change in height from sitting to standing not all that noticeable. "I should go practice for a while. It seems like we haven't had any action here in a long while," Sigrun noted a bit solemnly, Anders thankful for the lack of 'action' as Sigrun had called it.

Finally gaining a moment to himself, Anders groaned rather loudly, the mage slinking down into his chair until the back of his head rested against the top of the chair. "Meow?" Ser Pounce-a-Lot noticed his owner's attitude, Anders reaching a hand out to pet his cat in the meantime.

"I swear. Why is it I always want things I can never have? First, freedom from the Circle. That was incredible enough, certainly, but this...this will never happen. But, at least I have you, don't I, Ser Pounce-a-Lot?" Anders smiled at the kitty in his lap, another meow quickly answering Anders' rhetorical question. _Of course, __**she**__ gave me you too, didn't she?_ Anders inwardly groaned once more, the futility of his situation little more than frustrating.

* * *

**_Alistair, I hope this letter finds you well. It seems the darkspawn have finally retreated back to the Deep Roads, though Amaranthine will need considerable repairs. Worry not, dear husband, for I and the Grey Wardens will not neglect to see to the rebuilding._**

**_I am sorry to trouble you when you are no doubt drowning in politics with Eamon breathing down your neck, but I have a small favor to ask of you, should you be willing to indulge me. Last evening I dreamed of something that will alarm you, though I dare not include blatant details in this missive._**

**_Regardless, I would ask that you keep an eye out for anyone in the guard or other comparable places that would make for a suitable Grey Warden. As you are no doubt aware, our numbers in Ferelden are still far too few to remain complacent, and so I am looking for recruits._**

**_Should you wish to find me for some reason, I will be traveling to Highever in the coming weeks to visit Fergus. My hope is to find a recruit there, but I suppose we shall see._**

**_In other less life-threatening news, Zevran has arrived in Amaranthine and remains here at Vigil's Keep with Oghren and myself. Oghren at first asked whether I would conscript him; the idea was preposterous, of course, but still very tempting at the same time. Perhaps I shall mention it to him and see how he reacts..._**

**_If it is not too much trouble, I would also ask that you have the major liaisons and establishments post notices concerning the Grey Warden recruitment. I would assume the Chantry, the Blackstone Irregulars, and the Alienage would yield the best results._**

**_I do not know when I shall see you next, husband, but I pray the Maker keep you safe._**

**_Yours Always,_**

**_Cirrenes_**

Nodding at her finished letter, Cirrenes released a loud sigh; the letter seemed so impersonal, so particularly _foreign_, that it did not seem as though her own hand had written it. Though, she blamed Alistair in part for the awkward tone of the letter. He had never truly forgiven her for sparing Loghain only to allow him to defeat the Blight and be named hero once again.

Honestly, she wouldn't have been surprised if Alistair had compared Loghain to Howe, and insisted that he be allowed to murder Loghain since she had done the same to Howe. Duncan was a good man, a caring individual who had dutifully met the demands of the age in which he lived. Cirrenes was by no means trying to belittle his image or his memory, though Alistair had accused her of such when she had 'betrayed' him at the Landsmeet.

She would _not _stoop to Loghain's level. She had a reputation to uphold, a goal to meet, and Maker help her she would not kill someone when there was a chance he could still do some good in the world. Howe had been unable to be swayed from the very start; he had tortured innocents, whispered the poison into Loghain's ear as all of Ferelden became a bloody battlefield.

No, Loghain was not a lost cause, not like Howe. She firmly believed that, and whether or not Alistair agreed was honestly not her concern. She was justified, she knew, and if her husband could not be swayed by reason, then she would simply allow him to stew in his misery. Nothing she could say would assuage the pain, and he had to make peace eventually, or so she hoped at any rate.

It was only moments later that Cirrenes noticed she had gripped the letter tightly, tears pouring down her cheeks alarmingly. She wouldn't pretend Alistair's accusations hadn't hurt, hadn't made her rethink why she ever had loved him. His words had cut deeper than any darkspawn's sword, any mercenary's blade.

Nearly jumping from her position on the bed, Cirrenes hastily wiped away her tears when she heard a few knocks on her door, Zevran speaking through the barrier though Cirrenes could not make out any words he spoke. "I would like to be left alone, Zevran," Cirrenes informed him quietly, the assassin hesitating outside of the door before sighing.

"Crying for a king who resents you does not become you, Cirrenes," Zevran attempted to console her, the Commander clenching her jaw to keep more tears from flowing. She needed to be strong, and by Andraste's blood, she would be. She had to be; not only for herself, but for all those people and Grey Wardens who counted on her to keep them safe. The responsibility had never weighed so heavily. "You are strong, my Grey Warden, but hiding from the pain will not lessen or release it," Zevran spoke from experience, Rinna coming to mind but moments later. "Let me in," Zevran instructed quietly, Cirrenes standing and twisting the doorknob before collapsing into the elf's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own nothing 'bout no Dragon Age! (Please excuse the terrible reference to Gone with the Wind. I do love that novel though.)

Lilliwyn is my awesome beta-reader. Go check out her stories if you haven't already!

Enjoy the chapter. Please remember to leave me a review or message when you finish!

* * *

Cirrenes was keenly aware of her position when she awoke the next morning, her mind exhausted from the catharsis that had taken place the previous evening. She could feel the beginnings of a crick in her neck as she slowly pushed herself upright, her hazy vision clearing once she looked up into the sultry and strangely comforting brown eyes of one Zevran Arainai.

Nearly as a reflex, Cirrenes shuffled back from Zevran, the assassin visibly frowning at her reaction. "Sorry, Zev...I was caught a bit off guard," Cirrenes sighed, one of her hands easily threading through her hair. "I don't suppose you know if the messengers have left for Denerim yet, do you?" Cirrenes then asked, Zevran cocking an eyebrow in her direction.

"I have taken the liberty of sealing your letter addressed to the King and finding the men traveling to Denerim, though not without earning a rather cold glare from one of your men: the tall, perpetually-frowning one. Surely you know of whom I speak," Zevran answered easily, Cirrenes allowing a wry smile onto her features. "I suspect there is no reward for such a task?" Zevran continued, the Commander smiling despite herself.

"Certainly you would not expect such a prize from a friend, Zevran," Cirrenes admonished teasingly, her memories concerning the gifts she had given the elf during the Blight suddenly coming to mind. "I would like to...thank you. Last evening was not something I hope to repeat in the future," Cirrenes murmured quietly, the Commander finally moving from the mattress to her feet.

She had sobbed endlessly into Zevran's chest for most of the evening and well into the wee hours of the morning, the elf saying little though keeping his arms around her for comfort and as a reminder that she was most certainly not alone. Zevran had had no idea that her pain ran so deep, though he was not surprised by the turn of events. Alistair had been a rather...close-minded companion during their travels, and Zevran suspected he had done little to repair the damage that had occurred between he and his queen. "That is not something you need to thank me for, my dear. Had I such inclinations to cry, your bosom would be the first I cling to, though sadly Wynne is not here should you be busy killing darkspawn," Zevran attempted to lighten the mood, Cirrenes merely rolling her eyes with a smile.

"Zevran, I would like to ask you a favor, if you don't mind," Cirrenes began, Zevran lifting an eyebrow that clearly conveyed he wished her to continue. "You see, I will be traveling to Highever, and since I will be sending my fellow Grey Wardens to recruit whilst I am there, I had hoped you might join me," Cirrenes placed her request, Zevran blinking once while digesting the information.

"I can scarcely think of anything more scandalous than for a married woman to travel unaccompanied with an elf who has not only tried to kill her and her husband in the past, but who has also expressed romantic interest in her," Zevran stated wanly, Cirrenes' lips pursing. She had not thought of the political implications and possible ramifications of such an action, and now that they had been unearthed, perhaps Zevran had a point.

"If you do not wish to go, Zevran, please speak plainly," Cirrenes instructed, her tone bordering between teasing and sincere.

"It is not so much a matter of wanting to accompany you, my Grey Warden; I am merely trying to take into account what Alistair and the royal court will think should they discover such a...precarious situation," Zevran continued, the assassin well-versed in politics and how best to avoid potentially life-threatening situations, specifically those involving his person.

"I would suggest taking some soldiers with us from the Keep, but our numbers here are too few to spare anyone," Cirrenes bit her lip, the Commander pacing back and forth at Zevran's side. "Perhaps my brother will have some men to spare when we depart Highever," Cirrenes asserted, Zevran's arms crossing as he gave her a skeptical look. The Castle at Highever had seen many horrors in the past years, and would not just bounce back after a while's reparations.

"If I did not know better, Cirrenes, I would assume that should the King find out, you would simply ignore him," Zevran stated, the redhead offering him a small, guilty smile for his accuracy.

"Alistair's feelings, I'm afraid, are not my top priority. I believe I made that abundantly clear at the Landsmeet. However, Ferelden is in dire need for Grey Wardens, and for that to happen, we need to recruit. Allow me to dress and write a few more letters to Grey Wardens outside of Ferelden. I also need to inform my comrades of their new assignments," Cirrenes expected Zevran to nod appropriately and leave the room, the elf instead surprising her by grinning in a remarkably lecherous manner. "Zevran, when I asked that you _allow_ me to dress, I presumed you would leave the room while I did so," Cirrenes then pointed out, an expectant look pointed in Zevran's direction.

"Mark my words, my Grey Warden, a day will yet come where you will ask me quite the opposite," Zevran winked once before disappearing into the corridor, Cirrenes moving to deftly lock the door after he had left. Releasing a quiet sigh, Cirrenes turned to her armor stand before removing her sleeping gown and starting the mind-numbing process of buckling the leather armor onto her body.

Standing again once she finished dressing more appropriately for travel, Cirrenes unlocked her door should someone need her and sat at her desk once more, a quill and bottle of ink at the ready. She would need to contact Weisshaupt, and would most likely contact Orlais as well, given the country's proximity to Ferelden. She was also tempted to draft letters to the Free Marches and perhaps Antiva or Nevarra, but decided she would first see how recruitment in Ferelden went before getting that desperate. No need to alarm the foreign countries and seem weak when there wasn't a need for it.

Signing her final letter, Cirrenes allowed the missives to dry before folding them and addressing them appropriately. The air in the hallway proved to be colder than the stale air in her bedchambers, the pieces of parchment clutched in her hand as she entered the throne room. "Varel, I would ask that you send messengers to Orlais and Weisshaupt, respectively with these. I believe it is high time I attempted at allies, and Maker knows we need more Wardens here," Cirrenes finished before handing him the missives.

"Of course, My Lady. Though I'm sure you are aware that traveling to the Anderfels and Orlais will be no small task," Varel alerted her, Cirrenes waving off his concerns.

"I am well aware, 'tis why I have written them now instead of waiting even longer," Cirrenes remarked, Varel inclining his head respectfully before Cirrenes turned her head towards the door. Oddly enough, her companions were nowhere to be found...

* * *

"I do not know what to make of it," Justice stated, the others nodding their heads in agreement. "You are all more aware of the Commander's feelings than I," he then continued, Cirrenes appearing in the doorway though pausing when she heard herself mentioned. _Perhaps 'tis time I learned what they truly think of me, _Cirrenes quietly leaned against the door-frame, her silhouette out of sight though her ears easily discerning what was being said.

"I saw the elf outside her bedroom door last night; it was obvious he was snooping," Sigrun threw in her two cents, the others not wholly convinced.

"Perhaps it was only I who noticed, but she seemed rather...distressed when she left for her resting chambers," Velanna added, the elf pondering just what could have upset the Commander so.

"Do you think it's the King?" Nathaniel wondered aloud, Sigrun and Anders grimacing at the thought while Oghren remained thoughtful, a look which Cirrenes did not often see upon the dwarf's countenance.

"Heh, you don't know the half of it, kid," Oghren's tone was teasing at first, his somber gaze finally dipping into the tankard of ale in his hands. "Not the happy-ever-after I'm sure they thought it'd be," Oghren muttered, Sigrun and Anders exchanging a look.

"Zevran explained their falling out last night. Something about Loghain and keeping him alive instead of killing him," Anders hesitated, the mage looking up and meeting several pairs of eyes.

They...knew? Cirrenes could feel her heart constrict within her chest, the mention of Alistair a painful one. Deciding to divert the group's attention, Cirrenes swallowed back her uneasiness before stepping into the mess hall, the group instantly chatting about the sudden rise in price of ale or the foul temper Wade had been in earlier that morning.

"I had no idea you were all so friendly," Cirrenes commented slyly, her arms crossing her chest. This abruptly halted all conversation, some of the group hiding their sheepishness far better than others. Nathaniel remained impassive as did Velanna, Anders fidgeting nervously in his chair. "I'm afraid I've decided who will go where concerning more recruitment," Cirrenes then pulled a chair away from an empty table before plopping into it. "Oghren, I want you and Anders to go to Orzammar," Cirrenes looked to the dwarf in question, Anders loudly protesting his partner with particular fervor.

"You can't be serious, Commander!" Anders had no desire to travel alone with the foul-smelling dwarf, though he was nearly certain Oghren shared a similar sentiment.

"Perhaps you would care to lead the Grey Wardens, then, Anders?" Cirrenes replied quietly, the mage swallowing any response he would have given. Her gaze lingering briefly on Anders' unhappy mien, she instead turned to Velanna. "You and Sigrun will seek out nearby Dalish clans for any recruits they may have or wish to give you," Cirrenes ordered subtly, Velanna inclining her head tacitly.

"Nathaniel, I would like you to remain here with Justice to oversee Amaranthine, but also to question the Constable whether he has men suitable for service to the Grey Wardens," Cirrenes stated, the Howe understanding his duty and bowing his head respectfully. "I will take Zevran and head to Highever; should any of you need assistance, please address letters either here or Highever. And Nathaniel, should something occur in my absence, I'm certain the King and Denerim would little mind aiding you," Cirrenes tried to cover her bases, the group eerily silent for once.

"Once you find your recruits, bring them immediately back to the Keep to undergo the Joining, and be careful not to reveal too much information beforehand; no need to scare away potential men," Cirrenes added the last bit with a dry expression. "Be safe, my friends," Cirrenes attempted at smile, her lips hardly forming more than a grimace.

The group disbanded moments later, dread beginning to seep through the Commander's thoughts. She had little to worry about, though, hadn't she? All of her allies were strong, and had proven their worth and then some by the journey against the Mother. Taking a deep breath, Cirrenes opened her eyes only to spot Anders still milling around nearby, the mage pausing before meeting her eyes. His lips twisted into a small smile, the blond subsequently tripping and losing his balance over a rather misplaced table leg. Cirrenes withheld her grin at his antics, Ser Pounce-a-lot appearing moments later to see what had caused the fuss. "I do hope you are more skilled against darkspawn than you are at fighting chairs, Anders," Cirrenes could not contain the flirtatious remark, Anders lifting an eyebrow.

"I'll just have to hope the darkspawn don't know my weakness then, won't I?" Anders replied easily, Cirrenes laughing despite herself. _Now if only you knew what the weakness actually __**was**_, Anders inwardly sighed, the Commander excusing herself before leaving Anders alone once again.

"Mrow?" Ser Pounce-a-lot seemed to understand his owner's distress, Anders sighing before leveling a gaze at his beloved feline companion.

"I know, I know. There isn't much I can do about that," Anders sighed once again, his mind wandering briefly to just what he would take with him to Orzammar. He shouldn't have been surprised he had been lumped with the dwarf as a traveling companion; he only hoped he would never get to experience it ever again.

"He almost makes me nostalgic for the templars," Anders sighed rather dramatically, the mage finally heading for his own quarters to pack for his soon departure.

* * *

The next morning came rather quickly upon Vigil's Keep, Cirrenes and her companions adequately preparing for what would be more than a few day's journey, especially where Oghren and Anders were traveling. The packs carried between her and Zevran were filled with necessary items, though kept light purposefully since they would be traveling on foot and not horseback. Mounts would have made things infinitely easier, but Ferelden had staunchly refused them if only out of a stubborn and dearly-held belief that it would convert them into Orlesians.

Her eyes locked briefly with Zevran's before she nodded in his direction, the other four Wardens checking their own packs or securing weapons. "Commander," Cirrenes smiled as Nathaniel approached, the Howe looking a little thrown off balance with the title. "I trust I won't have to worry about the Keep being burned down in my absence," she remarked a bit teasingly, Nathaniel about to respond before Anders' raised voice interrupted, the mage apparently angry with Oghren. "I shouldn't be gone longer than a fortnight, Nathaniel. And don't forget to look among the Constable's men for recruits," Cirrenes reminded him, Zevran noting inwardly that she was acting rather like a mother leaving her child for the first time.

"You needn't worry," Nathaniel assured her, his eyes straying to Anders who was still arguing with Oghren rather emphatically.

"You can't just use my packs for your ale!" Anders insisted, Oghren growling some type of response before Cirrenes decided it was better she stay out of the squabble lest she lose what remained of her tattered sanity.

"Now, if Morrigan were here, she would have turned Oghren into a toad by now, to be certain," Zevran commented slyly, Cirrenes smiling at his comment. She could instantly recall the many times Alistair had expressed his concern for earning such a fate, especially from the Witch of the Wild in question.

"I suppose...we shouldn't dally any longer, Zev," Cirrenes gazed briefly at her elven companion before securing her packs once more out of habit than actual necessity. "Stay safe; and if anything should delay you in your return to the Keep, send correspondence so we don't assume the worst," Cirrenes gave her final order before departing for Highever. Sigrun and Velanna quickly followed their leave, Oghren and Anders finally deciding on a suitable compromise before heading out to Orzammar.

* * *

"Perhaps we should set up camp, Cirrenes," Zevran spoke at her side, the sun nearly blinding them as they continued in their northwestern direction.

"There is a small village nearby; I was hoping to make it there before camping," Cirrenes explained quickly and concisely, a small, dog-eared map of Ferelden in her hands. The journey thus far had been rather quiet, though Cirrenes was grateful for the time to think. True, it was unusual for Zevran to not wonder aloud at her rather brooding exterior, but she assumed, hoped really, that he knew better than to pester her. "With any luck, they'll have an inn," Cirrenes spoke again, Zevran wary though not voicing his feelings. So long as this town reminded him little of Haven, he could foresee no difficulties in remaining there for one night.

Soon enough a few houses came into view, a few people still out and about around their homes and the small marketplace running through the entire town. A few ladies stopped and stared at the two as they entered, the gossipers doing little to keep their voices down and their opinions to themselves. "Zevran-" Cirrenes stopped speaking dead away when she turned to her side, the elf not there. "I wonder...," Cirrenes instead turned to the two gossipers, the middle-aged women blushing as Zevran spoke to them rather eloquently.

"I should have known," Cirrenes shook her head, a small smile perched on her lips despite her irritation. "I do hope you managed to glean some information from them before promising to bed them both this evening," Cirrenes lifted an eyebrow with a sly expression as Zevran returned to her side, the elf allowing his smile to manifest into a smirk.

"My dear Warden, I am appalled. To think you have such a low opinion of my intentions and tastes...I am hurt," Zevran reminded Cirrenes of the night when he first appeared in the Vigil, the Commander merely sighing before Zevran drove his point to the heart of the matter. "As it is, however, they informed me just where the inn is located, how much a room costs, how many rooms are available, and that we make a rather handsome pair," Zevran grinned wickedly at the last revelation, Cirrenes blushing before turning her head away.

"I do hope you corrected their error," Cirrenes mumbled, the heat hardly abating from her cheeks before she looked at Zevran once more.

"I hardly think it would have mattered, my dear. They would simply have assumed we were trying to hide whatever trysts they believe we have taken part in," Zevran answered crisply.

"You've a point there, my friend, but perhaps we best not loiter here. I would rather not people find out just who I am," Cirrenes was understandably nervous that people would recognize her, either as the Queen or the Hero of Ferelden. Though, the town busybodies hadn't noticed, and as such Cirrenes reasoned so long as she was careful she had little to worry about in lieu of being recognized.

"Indeed. A mob makes for quite a disorderly state, and an excellent one for assassins at that," Zevran noted, Cirrenes assuming he had performed such a duty in those conditions before.

The Mabari Fang Inn appeared well-lit, a tavern inside the front door littered with men who had obviously been working the fields or in mines all day. Tankards of ale were clutched in most of the men's hands, the workers not noticing as the two entered and bypassed the tables to speak to the owner.

"Hello. We would like a room for the night," Cirrenes approached the innkeeper with a friendly expression, his graying hair clumsily combed over what looked to be a bald spot on the top of his head.

"That'll be ten silvers, Ma'am," the man's voice was deep, kind, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity. "You'll be wanting anything else? My wife's a decent enough cook, Maker help her," he continued with a degree of fondness in his voice, Zevran exchanging a look with the Commander.

"If it isn't too much trouble," Cirrenes acquiesced, Zevran not particularly approving of such an action though not speaking his mind and upsetting the innkeeper.

"The men here get a little out of control when they're completely gone, Ma'am. Just thought I'd warn you since most women around here don't exactly...meet your standards," the innkeeper tried his best not to insult the women of the town or his wife.

"Of course. If you would give me the key to our room, I will not trouble you or your customers with another appearance until morning," Cirrenes promised, the Grey Warden not concerned about staying in the room all evening. Her feet ached more than she cared to admit, and she would not move more than absolutely necessary.

After procuring the key to their room and enduring some suggestive remarks from Zevran, Cirrenes happily sighed once the door opened, the roomy mattress her first destination. "Remaining at the Keep has made me weak," Cirrenes mumbled, the Commander all but sprawling onto the bed, her eyes closing.

"We shall have to correct that occurrence then," Zevran returned, the assassin starting when a feeble knock sounded on the door.

"No need to be so jumpy, Zev. 'Tis only the food we asked for," Cirrenes made no move to leave the mattress any time soon, her companion merely lifting an elegant eyebrow before turning and opening the door.

"Holy Andraste! Aren't you the Grey Warden?" the woman gasped, Cirrenes wondering how in Thedas the woman could possibly have known that, especially when she hadn't even spoken a single word to the woman.

"'Twould be appreciated were you to keep my appearance here low-key, Miss," Cirrenes stated softly, the woman wide-eyed though nodding dumbly before Zevran pushed the door closed.

"Perhaps there is something to this Grey Warden business after all. It would seem that being a Grey Warden would have all the more women throwing themselves at my feet," Zevran noted with a hint of astonishment, Cirrenes laughing at the statement.

"I apologize, Zevran. I should have informed you of all the women that come to the Keep for that sole purpose to whom I must inform that I am married. 'Twould make it all the easier for their broken hearts to be swayed by your honeyed words, surely," Cirrenes carried on with the charade, Zevran nearly ready to ask if she were serious. "Let us eat. I do hope this will be enough...," Cirrenes hadn't taken into account her ravenous appetite when they had requested sustenance, her weariness overtaking her hunger in that moment.

The rest of the evening was a quiet affair despite Zevran's wish to continue their conversation regarding the women Cirrenes had mentioned. "Zevran...," Cirrenes stole his attention easily, the Commander looking a bit sheepish before continuing. "I would like to change clothes. Would you mind...turning around?" Cirrenes placed her request, Zevran's arms crossing over his chest.

"I assure you that you possess nothing which I have not already seen, but if it will set your mind at ease," Zevran did not look angry by the request, but Cirrenes could sense his disappointment. Pursing her lips, Cirrenes quickly removed her armor, the metal clasps banging a few times when she placed everything onto the floor at her bedside.

"All right. I'm decent, more or less," Cirrenes attempted at a joke, the Grey Warden not missing the half smile perched on Zevran's lips when he turned around to face her once again.

When it was clear Zevran had similar ideas, Cirrenes could scarcely keep the blush from her cheeks as she averted her eyes; _Is the Maker trying to tempt me into infidelity? Given, I doubt Alistair would much care at this point, but all the same..._

Moving as close to the edge of the mattress as she could without falling to the floor, Cirrenes tried not to think about the warm body within reach on her other side; _I'm being ridiculous. Zevran knows better, and I trust him more than this_, Cirrenes sighed audibly as she rolled onto her back, Zevran's eyes blinking at her with thinly-veiled surprise. "Good night, Zevran," Cirrenes wasted little time in getting to sleep, her soft snores echoing throughout the room not long after.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Dragon Age.

Lilliwyn is my beta-reader. Do go and check out her stories!

I do introduce a new OC this chapter; his name (Ser Lieranc) is pronounced [leer AHNK].

Messages and reviews of any kind are encouraged and appreciated. Enjoy!

* * *

The Commander's dreams varied little that evening, her tossing and turning waking Zevran more than once throughout the night. The assassin was never upset when he awoke, his lecherous thoughts subsiding once he noticed just how distressed his companion was, even in slumber.

In truth, Cirrenes dreamed not of the darkspawn, but of memories that still served as regrets were she to linger on them for too long in her mind. The yelling and general unhappiness of the Landsmeet had taken the forefront of her nightmares, accented by random darkspawn filling the chamber though none seemed to notice. "I'll not stand by this man and call him a brother!" Alistair snarled, his glare directed first at Loghain before turning to the woman he claimed to love so dearly.

Darkness loomed like clouds before the storm, Cirrenes vainly attempting to persuade her lover of her decision. "If he...goes, then I won't," Alistair finally murmured quietly, time slowing as Cirrenes digested the information. Tainted claws pawed at her leathers as she froze in place, her eyes wide and unbelieving. Had Alistair truly threatened to leave if he was not allowed his own way?

"You are acting like a _child_, Alistair," Cirrenes hissed, the bastard prince taking a step back as though he were forcefully slapped in the face. "Yes, this man is the cause of many brave peoples' deaths, but he is still a formidable warrior. Why not grant him mercy before his certain death? Or perchance you would rather stoop to his level?" Cirrenes continued, the nobles beginning to speak in hushed tones amongst themselves.

"I'm to be king, am I not? I demand this man executed!" Alistair attempted with a firm tone, his eyes never once moving to linger on Cirrenes. A few guards twitched in their positions, clearly torn between acting out the order and waiting for someone to dismiss it.

Lightning sounded in the room before Cirrenes cleanly stepped to Alistair, her clenched fists shaking with unadulterated fury. "Killing Loghain will _not_ bring back Duncan, Alistair!" Cirrenes spoke through grit teeth, hardened blue eyes boring into him relentlessly. "If you desire someone's blood so passionately, then take mine," Cirrenes then tossed one of her blades at his feet, the metal clanking once onto the stone floor as a few nobles gasped their surprise.

Alistair's gaze landed on the sword before he met Cirrenes' eyes, the smoldering brown irises filling with a searing expression. Swallowing, Alistair took a step back, his head bowed as he looked away and towards the chamber door. "It is decided. Alistair will rule and I will conscript Loghain into the Grey Wardens," Cirrenes announced, a cacophony of shouts and outrage permeating the otherwise thick and quiet air of the Landsmeet chamber.

Freezing rain pelted into the chamber as the scene continued and shifted, the Commander facing Alistair's turned silhouette. "I...I don't know who you are," Cirrenes could hear Alistair's broken voice over those who were asking her questions, the dream finally shattering once she realized Zevran was shaking her shoulders rather violently in reality.

It was only after Zevran released her that she noticed the wetness dripping from her cheeks, a fisted hand wiping away the tears before she looked over at her companion. He did not speak for a few moments, the elf clearly wondering just what he was supposed to say in her current state.

Cirrenes did not utter a word as she stood and dressed quietly, her modesty all but forgotten as she focused more on her own thoughts rather than the physical task. The memories tinged with a dreamlike fluidity were vivid, and obviously emotional enough to drive her to tears even whilst asleep. In all her travels during the Blight, Cirrenes could not recall a singular occasion where her façade had fallen and she had allowed the tears to fall. Had Alistair such a power over her emotions, or had she merely been keeping them hidden away for too long?

Sincerely hoping for the latter, Cirrenes turned to Zevran once she buckled the last armor piece over her shoulder, her fingers dragging through her hair so she was at least somewhat presentable when they left the village. The look he met her with conveyed so many questions in a mere glance; was she able to continue? Did she need some time to herself, to collect her thoughts? Did she wish to continue alone? No apologies were needed, and Cirrenes had to stifle the urge to spew them at Zevran, instead offering him a weary and watery smile before opening the door and stepping into the corridor.

Floorboards creaked beneath their boots as they made their way back to the main floor of the inn, the windows allowing what little light was outside through its grimy glass. Metal prongs intended to hold torches were understandably empty; the innkeeper no doubt had extinguished the light after his patrons had returned home in order to stave off any unnecessary fire hazards. Cirrenes had to squint her eyes when she descended the rather rickety staircase, Zevran's lack of noise unnerving her as they continued. _Such is how an assassin moves_, Cirrenes remarked inwardly, the Commander turning her gaze over her shoulder just to be certain Zevran was still _there_.

"Leavin' so soon?" the innkeeper's voice sounded across the room, Cirrenes turning on her heel and heading for the counter the balding man stood behind.

"I'm afraid so. You said the room was worth ten silver?" Cirrenes produced the small sack of coins from the leather pouch at her hip, the innkeeper nodding. "Here. Fifteen silvers, for the meal and for your trouble. Take care, kind ser," Cirrenes handed the currency to the innkeeper, his eyes widening at the large sum.

"Thank you, Ser!" the man looked positively gleeful as he disappeared into what Cirrenes assumed was the kitchen, the smell of the fire proving her assumption true.

"Let's go," Cirrenes then murmured quietly enough for Zevran to hear, the elf's nod barely discernible before they headed out the door and to Highever.

The sun peeked over the horizon, mist hovering over the ground as Cirrenes and Zevran took their first few steps into the still-slumbering village. Birds chirped in the background, water sloshing as sluggish women poured it into buckets to be used for cooking and cleaning later in the day. They hardly noticed the couple pass, Cirrenes inclining her head once in their direction though not receiving a reply, tacit or otherwise.

"We should arrive in Highever around midday," Cirrenes informed Zevran once they passed the outskirts of the village, Zevran finally giving Cirrenes what she had officially dubbed as _the_ look. "What?" she then asked, her tone curious as dread filled her gut.

"My dear Grey Warden," Zevran began, his tone remarkably soft and not lascivious in the slightest. "I do not claim to know much of your strained...relationship with Alistair, but are you certain we should not have gone to Denerim-"

"_No_," Cirrenes abruptly interrupted Zevran's question, her lips pulled into a thin, taut line. She knew Zevran was worried for her, even if his countenance did not betray it. It was sweet, thoughtful even, two traits she had not thought Zevran to possess in great supply, but there they were nonetheless. "I...I will go to Denerim, but I informed Fergus we would arrive within the week," she continued with a mumble, Zevran hardly appeased but willing to drop the topic of conversation if only for the moment.

"Of course," he replied easily, the elf shifting his weight before falling in stride with Cirrenes once again. He could wait, and it seemed the Commander had other things to entertain her mind meanwhile.

* * *

The path had become increasingly rocky as they advanced, the scent of the salt from the sea slowly permeating the air. A blissful expression crossed Cirrenes' features briefly, the feeling of returning home an altogether happy one, if only from seeing Fergus once again. The castle at Highever still retained its unpleasant memories, however, vivid flashes of steel and blood replaying in her mind after the initial happiness dissipated before she turned her attention elsewhere

After Alistair had been crowned King, Cirrenes had returned to Highever with Fergus to properly bury the remains of their parents, though of course they could not rightly identify the decaying corpses. Instead of the formal ceremony to burn the bodies and scatter the ashes, Fergus and Cirrenes had instead decided to place small, stone markers in memory of Bryce and Eleanor, Oren and Oriana also earning a similar plaque not far away from that of the Teryn and Teryna.

The courtyard of the castle was hardly decorated, only a few sparse trees and rubble serving to alleviate the monotony. Two armed guards were stationed appropriately at the castle gates, the men instantly standing at attention once they noticed just who had approached. "My Lady!" one man crossed his arms in an x-shape over his chest as a greeting, Cirrenes returning the hello with a similar gesture.

"Is my brother about?" Cirrenes then queried aloud, a dog's barking interrupting the guard's reply.

"He is meeting with a messenger from the King, if I am not mistaken, My Lady," the guard informed her, a few rivulets of sweat beading at the guard's forehead nervously. Cirrenes' lips broke into a grin once she saw her loyal hound running towards her, Zevran chuckling at her side as he recognized the dog. "He's been harassing the new Cook, My Lady. No doubt she'll be glad to be rid of him," the guard continued, Cirrenes bending to one knee and petting the mabari, her smile practically blinding the guard once she looked up at him.

"Of course. I wouldn't dream of leaving him here any longer," Cirrenes promised.

"Ah, you'd so quickly leave me here to my own loneliness, Sister. I am hurt, indeed," Fergus had appeared at long last, his arms crossed over his chest predictably.

"Fergus," Cirrenes stated, the Commander standing before throwing herself into her brother's waiting arms. "I've missed you terribly," she murmured into the crook of his neck, his gauntlet rubbing her back in reassuring strokes.

"You've been missed as well, Cirrenes. Though I suppose the Queen has better things to do than meet with us lowly folk," Fergus teased, Cirrenes' smile never wavering once. "Your companion, Cirrenes?" Fergus then looked to Zevran, the assassin's features shifting into his typical debonair stance.

"This is Zevran. You remember him from the wedding, surely?" Cirrenes reintroduced the elf, Fergus tapping his chin in mock thought. "But, let us not discuss such things on the doorstep! Let us retire to a more comfortable room; we have been walking all day, you know," Cirrenes reminded him, Fergus blinking lamely before the comment registered.

"Of course, of course. Mustn't strain your feet overmuch, after all," Fergus remarked, Cirrenes hitting her brother's shoulder with a scowl. Duke, the ever-faithful mabari, walked at his master's heels, Zevran feeling a bit out of place with the familial ties between the other three, but masking the feeling effectively.

* * *

"The guard informed us that you were entertaining a messenger from the King; is that true, Fergus?" Cirrenes voiced her curiosity, the main hall just as she remembered from her last visit. The Cousland coat of arms served as the main decoration of the hall, banners and antiquated weaponry placed sporadically along the wall to tell of the Couslands' many great deeds and loyalties.

"Yes. Your dear, sweet husband relayed your message concerning the Grey Warden recruitment; he merely wanted to be certain you had sent a message to me, so I would not be caught off guard," Fergus explained with a wave of his arm, Zevran's eyes wandering the hall analytically. "I've found a suitable recruit I think you should consider; I'm only sorry that I cannot be of more help to you," Fergus seemed genuinely remorseful, Cirrenes giving him a smile in return.

"You've already done so much to help rebuild Amaranthine, Fergus. I feel as though I am taking advantage of you," Cirrenes added with a diffident chuckle, Duke barking once at her side. "I hope you don't mind my taking Duke with me. I know how...lonely being here is," Cirrenes frowned, Fergus waving off her concern.

"I'm all right, Cirrenes. I don't need you to worry after me," Fergus informed her, his smile poorly-veiling his pain. "The King has even suggested looking for another...wife," Fergus quite visibly grimaced at the last word, Cirrenes' lips quirking at one side.

"Perhaps some companionship will do you some good, Brother. Perhaps invite one of the arls to Highever; had I not the weight of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, I would be here, rest assured," she continued genuinely, Fergus offering her a slight, sincere smile.

"I'm all right, Sister. I'm not alone here, you know: all these servants to keep me occupied," Fergus joked with a good-natured laugh. "Though, I suppose you'll be wanting to see this recruit I have in mind. He's a good man, an archer. Saved my neck a few times, though will never accept any reward," Fergus continued with a chortle. "He'll be practicing no doubt, at this time of day. I would go with you, Sister, but I have some matters that need attending to," Fergus finished, Cirrenes nodding her understanding.

"What is this man's name?" Zevran intercepted the Teryn before he could get away, Fergus blinking once before laughing at his own forgetfulness.

"Ser Lieranc," Fergus answered, finally turning on his heel and bounding out of the hall.

* * *

"I think that's the fellow over there," Zevran indicated towards the lone man practicing his archery, an arrow quickly zooming from his bow and hitting the target dead-center. "He is skilled, that much is certain," Zevran surveyed the man meticulously, Cirrenes watching with detached interest.

Her eyes flicked over his face, perspiration slowly rolling down his chiseled jawline. A hint of facial hair that had been recently shaved showed on his chin, his chestnut-brown hair cut short and out of his eyes. Retrieving another arrow from his quiver, Ser Lieranc notched it and aimed briefly before released, muscles relaxing as it split the other arrow in two.

"Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes called to the knight before he could continue his practice, his piercing gaze turning in the Commander's direction. "I am Teryn Cousland's sister, Cirrenes," she introduced herself, the man's eyes narrowed suspiciously though softening once he realized she meant him no harm.

"You are married to the King, are you not? You are the Queen of Ferelden, and the Commander of the Grey Wardens," Ser Lieranc quickly supplied, his striking blue eyes quickly glossing over Zevran, the motion and intensity of the gaze reminding Cirrenes faintly of Loghain.

"I would prefer if you call me Cirrenes, or Grey Warden if anything, Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes informed the knight, a subtle lift of the man's eyebrow the only indication that he had heard her comment. "As it is, however, I am searching for recruits for the Grey Wardens, and my brother has recommended you," Cirrenes continued, Ser Lieranc visibly tensing. "You are welcome to turn down the offer, Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes attempted to calm the obviously vexed man, the Commander noticing his facial expression shift minutely. His features had once been rather handsome, a jagged scar below his left eye proving his prowess in battle if nothing else. His skin was tan as only one who spent a great deal of time fighting could boast, his eyes bright and alive but also seemingly holding a great deal of grief and something else Cirrenes could not pinpoint. "I will be staying in Highever for a few days, so I urge you to think over my proposal. Have you any questions, feel free to find me in the library or study," Cirrenes then inclined her head at him, Ser Lieranc starting and staring at her oddly as she and Zevran strode away moments later.

"I think you rather broke him," Zevran commented with unrestrained chuckles, Cirrenes elbowing her companion in the stomach with a disapproving look. "He respects you, to be certain, but he thinks little of your battle skills due to your age, my dear," Zevran continued his analysis, Cirrenes nodding grimly at his deductions.

"I fear you are correct. Perhaps I shall train in the yard tomorrow and prove I am not merely a pretty face," Cirrenes added the last bit slyly, Zevran's grin remarkably lusty.

"Of that I am certain, my dear Grey Warden," Zevran blatantly flirted, Cirrenes rolling her eyes before continuing down the corridor.

"Must you make such passes at me, Zevran? What would the servants think? I can already hear the gossip amongst them," Cirrenes put a hand to her forehead, giving Zevran the illusion of an impending headache.

* * *

The night passed swiftly, more so than Cirrenes previously thought possible. The Cook clearly was no Nan, nor would she ever be, but the supper she had provided for Cirrenes and everyone else at the castle was more than adequate. Her brother had insisted she take her old room for the night, Zevran taking refuge across the hall in Fergus' old room. "I don't want to be...where they were murdered," Fergus had murmured to her out of Zevran's earshot, his eyes impossibly sorrowful.

She didn't think to refuse, though couldn't be rid of the prickling of her skin, a sign which nagged at her all night that something was amiss within the castle. She supposed she would not able to gain a regular night's rest after everything that had happened with Arl Howe in Highever Castle, and was silently glad it was no longer the home to which she returned, even if Fergus were there to welcome her.

Morning dawned earlier than Cirrenes expected, the brilliant rays of sunlight careening into her room through slits present in the stone. It was as though the stonemasons had specifically designed the room to bounce the light at just the right angle to shine in the occupant's face, Cirrenes groaning once before turning over in an effort to get away from the light if only for a few more moments.

Duke's ears could faintly detect the scurrying of servants outside Cirrenes' door, the dog visibly yawning before laying his head onto his front paws once again. His master mimicked the actions as she finally pushed herself into a sitting position, the blankets falling to her waist as she yawned quietly. The night had been surprisingly dream, and nightmare, free, and for it Cirrenes was relieved at the very least.

Her thoughts drifted to Ser Lieranc, the man still withholding his answer and irking Cirrenes immensely. Had he no desire to join the Grey Wardens, she would not push the issue and he would remain here at Highever Castle. Perhaps Zevran was correct after all; perhaps she had to prove she was skilled enough, and that it had not been sheer luck on her part in defeating the darkspawn and the Archdemon.

Deciding on her course of action, Cirrenes quickly dressed in what training clothes she could find; there was little sense in using her armor for opponents who had no intention to kill her, or so she hoped. Clad in a pair of dark trousers that fit rather snugly against her hips and a loose tunic, Cirrenes approached the training field, only a few knights and soldiers presently training so early in the morning. Sure enough, Ser Lieranc was among the few; he had discarded his bow to better practice his melee skills, techniques which, Cirrenes noticed, were not his strong suit.

"Good morning, Ser Lieranc," Cirrenes approached, the knight freezing mid-swipe and gauging the approaching woman cautiously. "I thought perhaps we could spar today; it would be prudent to assess your abilities, aside from your archery, which is impeccable," Cirrenes spoke with a hesitant smile, the knight not returning the gesture.

His eyes flicked to the two blades in place on her back, the enchanted weapons practically radiating power as she unsheathed them and allowed Ser Lieranc to take his stance. Taking the first swipe with her left hand, Cirrenes easily knocked away the knight's parrying blow and thrust forward with her right hand, the sword mere centimeters away from Lieranc's abdomen.

Narrowing his eyes, Cirrenes could swear she saw something harden in the man's azure eyes before he attacked outright, Cirrenes and Lieranc falling into a veritable dance of blades and fluid attacks. The knight proved to be a formidable opponent despite his lack of experience with dual weapons, though Cirrenes had a clear advantage and pressed forward with that knowledge to unbalance the knight as often as the opportunity presented itself.

A crowd gathered not too long after the two began dueling, cheers and gasps emanating from the haphazard circle at irregular intervals. It didn't take long before Ser Lieranc was flat on his back, both blades out of his reach with the Commander's at his neck, both their chests heaving from exertion. "You have won, My Lady," Ser Lieranc acknowledged his defeat, Cirrenes extending a hand to help him to his feet after replacing her swords into their sheaths.

The crowd dispersed shortly thereafter, the spectacle now over and allowing all the watchers to return to duties previously abandoned. "'Twas a good fight, Ser Lieranc. I shall leave you to your training now," Cirrenes then bowed her head before leaving the yard, a few heads turning in her direction as she left. Her tunic was sweat-soaked, the thin fabric leaving little to the imagination of those who happened a glance in her direction.

* * *

Cirrenes found herself later that evening in the study, her fingers curling around a frayed edge before turning the page, candlelight flickering lazily in the shadows. The sun had long ago dipped below the horizon, leaving Highever Castle darkened though filled with firelight in nearly every room. Duke lay at her feet, his ears twitching lazily every time the guard outside the room would shift his stance, causing his chainmail to clink against the stone behind him.

During her childhood, Cirrenes had not had much opportunity to read the various tomes housed in the castle, and very few had survived the night Howe's men had invaded. Her training clothes had been replaced by more comfortable attire: a borrowed pair of her brother's breeches buckled closed with a worn leather belt and a plain tunic which covered her upper torso, the piece of cloth torn in odd places though leaving Cirrenes with her modesty if nothing else.

Duke lifted his head as another presence appeared in the room, the mabari at first growling before recognizing the man's scent. Alerted to the presence, Cirrenes lifted her head to view the figure in the doorway, Ser Lieranc's piercing gaze trained on the Commander's face. Closing the book with an audible snap, Cirrenes offering the knight a small smile before standing. "Ser Lieranc. Is there something you wanted?" Cirrenes turned to place the book back onto the shelf it came from, Duke standing and warily crossing the room to sniff at Ser Lieranc.

"You were serious about becoming a Grey Warden, were you not?" Ser Lieranc began a bit unsteadily, Cirrenes frowning before nodding. "I lost my family to darkspawn, My Lady. I can hardly think of a higher calling than what you offer me," Ser Lieranc continued with a bitter tone, the intensity of his eyes nearly shaking Cirrenes to the core. "I agree," he then stated shortly, Cirrenes inclining her head.

"We will depart tomorrow. Have your things packed by then," Cirrenes stated, Ser Lieranc nodding before rounding on his heel and leaving the room. Her gaze fell to the floor soon afterward, her thoughts heavy and threatening to overwhelm her. Duke lifted his head and caught Cirrenes' eyes briefly, the mabari barking once and subsequently bringing a smile to her lips. "Perhaps Zevran was right after all; perhaps I should have gone to Denerim before Highever," Cirrenes murmured before turning to the doorway, her lips twisting into a small frown.

All the time away from Denerim only augmented her desire to see Alistair, even if he didn't wish to see her. Her sad thoughts were not given time to fester, however, as a cheery Zevran approached, his lips pulled in a very large grin. "I wondered where you had gotten to, Zevran," Cirrenes smiled in return, the assassin merely chuckling under his breath. "Need I ask how many bed's you've warmed, or would the better question be how many bodies have warmed your own?" Cirrenes asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My Grey Warden, whatever do you mean? I certainly do not know how to address such a...risqué question," Zevran answered in a impish tone.

"That many, is it?" Cirrenes laughed, Zevran joining in moments later. "Well, you had best say your farewells this evening. We'll be off in the morning," Cirrenes told him, the elf nodding.

"I heard as much from the good Ser Lieranc. He passed me before I saw your loveliness approach," Zevran replied.

"Now, if you don't mind, I would rather like to sleep. It has been a long and exhausting day," Cirrenes stretched to further prove her point, Zevran giving her a questioning look but not pressing the issue.

* * *

"Fergus?" Cirrenes knocked once outside their parents' old room, her head peeking inside a few moments later.

"Is something the matter?" Fergus asked, the teryn of Highever currently sitting at a desk, a quill dipped in ink hovering in the air.

"I just thought I'd tell you that Zevran and I will be leaving Highever tomorrow. Ser Lieranc has agreed to be my Grey Warden recruit," Cirrenes gave her brother a weary smile, the Commander traipsing into the room and nearly collapsing into the chair opposite Fergus.

"You would have made a silver-tongued politician, Cirrenes. There is more you wish to tell me, no doubt," Fergus saw through her attempt, her lips pursing before she pressed onward with her news.

"I know you've been to the Keep with to help with rebuilding, Fergus, but I was never able to introduce you to my fellow Grey Wardens," Cirrenes began, Fergus setting his quill down and lifting a curious eyebrow. "There is one amongst them I feel I should inform you of; Nathaniel Howe was caught stealing into the Keep, intentions not clear, and it was left to my discretion what should be done to him. I conscripted him, and he follows me even now," Cirrenes could see the dark clouds form over her brother's head before she had even finished speaking, the name Howe enough to stir up Fergus' hatred.

"How can...you allow a _Howe_ to be at your side, Cirrenes?" Fergus was retaining his composure, though it was beginning to break slowly.

"Nathaniel has proven useful, and has saved my life on more occasions than I can count," Cirrenes attempted a half-smile, her brother's deep frown nearly spilling over into a scowl. "Had he any intentions to harm or kill me, don't you think they would have surfaced by now? I did sleep alone in the Keep unattended and unguarded. He had every opportunity to do so," Cirrenes reminded Fergus, the teryn's shoulders stiff as he fought to control himself. "I will leave you to your missive-writing, Fergus. I only thought it best to tell you than for you to find out on your own and...do something you might regret. Please give him a chance before condemning him, Fergus. It is the least he deserves," Cirrenes quietly murmured the last sentence, Fergus' face blank as she stood and exited his chamber in favor of her own. _The hard part's over now. Though, I fear I will no longer find allies in either Denerim or Highever now,_ Cirrenes sighed, Duke giving her an inquisitive look as his head tilted to one side. "Let's sleep, Duke. We've a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

* * *

Cirrenes awoke before the sun appeared in the sky, her leathers donned and her packs strapped securely to her person. Zevran and Ser Lieranc were waiting for her at the main gates of the castle as she and Duke approached, the knight clearly glad that he was no longer subjected to Zevran alone. "Let's go," Cirrenes then ushered them forward, Zevran pausing before indicating the rumpled form of the teryn. "Fergus?" Cirrenes whispered, approaching him with an unsure feeling.

"I've thought long and hard, Cirrenes. I don't like your...companion, but I will trust your judgment in this. If he does _anything_ to you, I will personally gut him," Fergus added with a murderous glint, Cirrenes hugging her brother with a soft smile.

"Of course, Fergus. I'll return whenever I can," Cirrenes then pulled away, Fergus offering her a sad smile but waving her away.


End file.
